"skywards" poems
Breathing fire, from below,
Spitting a molten soul skywards,
Flinging pumice, ash, and fear,
The angry Vulcan casts,
His ever darkening shadow cross,
As the timely reminder , of
The fragility of this existence.
© Nick Strong 2014
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Gentle evening wind, non existent till a moment before
lying low among the children playing with the flakes of golden sun
fallen on the silver white sand, quickly rises, unnoticed by any one
flirt with the comely coconut palms lined on the beach,that act coy,
blows towards the long, rolling blue wave, meeting it headlong,
a blast, white spray springs up spectacularly like a fountain,
then, easily lifts three kitesurfers, fling them high up stylishly
across the fortress of water, they look invincible, untouched
by the waves, that look foolish eyeing skywards, the milling crowd
howls in mirth, seeing the dramatic twist, it's all fun till sun down.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
The Cornish shore …
Where golden sand lies next
To dappled grey granite rock,
Where the sea breeze sweeps
And the mussels flock,
Where the rock pools gather
And the small ***** patrol,
Where the white foam curls
And the breakers roll,
Where the sea birds call
And the salt spray stings,
Where the seaweed sunbathes
And the limpet clings,
Where a stream’s course meanders,
And reflects the azure sky,
Where a starfish gazes skywards
And white clouds go scudding by.
By all means take treasured memories,
But please take nothing more,
And leave nothing but your footprints
On this sacred Cornish shore …
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 1:08 AM UTC
A lake as still as still — a cloudless sky —
A bird-less forest — silent as the page,
That monk-like sits reflecting for an age
On pious deeds exalted upon high,
The page gilded in wisdom, lauded by
Its maker’s peers, wherein is set the stage
For Nature’s bountied beauty — I give homage
Unto its gifted craftsman, one that I
Have oft’ with envious eyes admired afar,
And matchless to his art, have grasped for skill
Far far above my grade — From him to me
Has come a gift as bright as Keats' Bright Star —
Unto thy lake, may this stone rend the still,
And loose thy songbird skywards, Timothy.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
In many different tongues, each one love's manifestations,
Some even to me unknown until the very moment,expressed,
I keep talking to you, my divine lover,out of my passion,intense
For you brimming within. Distraught a bit, feeling left in the lurch
On pouring rain and thunder storm; but you know how firm I am!
I stood rooted here, lost all sense of time, queer, ever felt you near.
Then a sharp pain hit weakening my heart ,but couldn't deter me,
I am a cat of nine love lives, a species so stubborn, thrives in trust.
Dead of night it is , I keep vigil, perking up ears, eyeing skywards,
How do I know from, where would my only love, to me speak?
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, **********
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****
a trinity
within a trinity
within a trinity
of beauty
her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
she is
an entrance
into love
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
I sit on the same well-tended grass by the water as I did
when I finished my novel about the place where love leaves us,
and I'm looking out across the lake to the dock
where we lay the other night.
A seagull sits there now,
atop a small white post, and there
is nobody else. The bird is unmoving
save for its feathers, ruffling in the wind, and I realize that everything
will very soon be seagulls because
if that spot there-- where we watched that Chinese lantern
float skywards and where you said that you knew me better
than you ever had-- can be a seagull,
well then so can be and will be every other place where I sat
watching things that weren't Chinese lanterns
do something other than float skywards.
While I'm tempted to say you made your mark on this place,
the seagull begs to differ-- no, you made your mark
on me.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
the moon was chasing the shadows of the forest,
while the night scurried into the black fields,
placing a small toe into a sorrowful grey cloud
the wind hardly more than a whisper.
and then midnight unwound, blue shadows on grass,
the fields green as dark emeralds,
the clouds dreaming of a soft moon,
and the eye drawn skywards,
filled with forgotten dreams
the wind began to hurry
birds crammed into a bucketful of sky
like flapping pages hinged to a spine.
welcome then to the stomach of night
to moonflower and the bright light that spins
uncovering the stones that lie in the dark moss
revealing the surreal landscape to a broken moon.
welcome then to our love, even more surreal,
as we hold each other close, and shiver like
strange plants wrapped into the black ink of the night
as the world unfolds to kisses and wilderness.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Amidst my self-sinkin' a'droppin' down
into involuntary shunts you note:
*"Pensive, pensive–
He is always so pensive.
He smokes another cigarette
and takes another bath."*
Amidst crossin' o'clawfeet
in clawfoot tubs you repeat:
*"Check the water for them words
you were park-wanderin' a'lookin' for
while I was out all last night
a'lookin' only for you."*
And as I look,
I do only, for you.
*"Sometimes – sometimes I am so in love with you, it's surrealism.
My heart's breaking from the weight, from my romanticism,
a castaway'd castawayer a'makin' memoirs in the morning.
I'm a beach-combing romantic; I'll fall out of love by the morning."*
Ponderin' a'wanderin' takes me back to the Fall with leaves, fallen too;
to our breaking point, pointing skywards in the off-season kite flying season.
I kiss the wind washing over my face and curse all the dumb, **** reasons
that I never did kiss you; I never meant to kiss you. I do only, for you.
*"Pensive, dear pensive,
you do this for me:
Go ponderin' for months–
O' sonderin' on o'er me."*
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
*the halcyon timberland rest
a cottage with gliding vines upon its wall
tasted soot and first snow,
knew the land where all grass grows.
I am a piece of mild apple rotting in merry hues
upon skeletons of twirling tree roots.
I peek skywards to the ripen boughs
and the mirthful hopping birds
of gold and yellow, of ruby and dream.
Amidst a silvery silent
sun rays make its glow of gold
with the sapphire ocean's salt.
Hear the wealthy sea soughing from afar?
in quiet burrows the rabbit takes its ample rest
as deep and soundly as dormant butterflies
in the green harmony bushes;
with the subtle, halcyon seawaves' singing...
A fine lullaby indeed.*
l.r
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
They were always up there, when
Moments of cognitive reflection started,
Gathering they went from white to grey.
They would start to think, rumbling
As Liquid thought meet with ice
Particles of deliberation.
Then thoughts would strike from their
Being to the solid below, it would be the
Beginning of words as gravity took hold.
Precipitation fell, first thoughtful drizzle,
Then as words spoken, each raindrop
Was voiced on the terrain below.
They uttered for what seemed like a
Deluge, their words flowed down
Streams and rivers to the waiting sea.
Words spent, that flowed no longer, not
Talked but evaporating skywards to the
Waiting white, to be spoken once more.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
magnesium bright
alterimage behind closed eyes
of how it would be
with you
intuitive
the shuddering breath
the uneasy familiarity and deja vu
the first time we meet
~~
unexpected
in silence
a smile blooms
heart shoots skywards
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
not a religious man
at times, I pray,
times, when the options are severely limited
look, get it, that makes me hypocrite,
instagram-man, shooting photo prayer upwards,
propelling them with all deliberate speed
skywards
thinking a passing angel will pluck'em
and hand deliver them to the correct
deity who will be good mood groomed,
thoughts fly, wishes returned bountiful
mark me upright or not,
mark me man with need for solutions,
mark me asking where should my eyes turn,
when there are none who answer,
mark me not,
for I have already been marked
Cained by life
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
sleeping pill
on sleeper trains overnight to andaman adventures
or on bus rides to and fro to mountain heavens
naps in car rides to taxi number of 411 and 611
awake for the sunrise only to sleep through the day , lazy beach walks
spent weeks in hammocks that bleed
family tree spreading down the roots have been found
peace to the world
is peace in the now
peace is won , my friend the doldrums do end
the pacific shores rise east and west surface
marvel a glass marble containing clouds swirls and tropical flowers
balloons float skywards
no choice but to let them float , and flow
with the change of pace , the change of place , forge on ahead
forging the sword in the fire flames cut the hair
change the name
invent a new game
play old games
if you dare
they have are old and friendly , they wise
to know the place that is truly home , can't choose your family but then they are just old friends
pressure breaks eventually
patience
patience
patience
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Amorous sunlight touches water.
Romantic ballerina.
Rhythm of pointed tips,
Swirling in sparkling pirouettes.
Kissing morning.
Bouncing ripples.
Surface bubbles,
Breaching each day.
Reaching skywards.
Always dancing.
Eternal beauty.
Gifts of nature's full grown maternity.
The birth of another lovely day.
(C) LIVVI
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
.
*pale bright yellow infringes
just beneath shadowed drift
of lingering snow
as if a nascent smoldering flickers
breathlessly gasping for light
penetrating cracks on whiter opaque
wondrously drawn skywards
'neath an unseen sky so far away
revealing an obscure warmth
in blossoming will
tomorrows vanguard
unfolding beneath a blanket
that only grows deeper
over the long winter night
a darkest silence borne
beyond frozen time layered depths
in the magic of a moment,
the clouds let the wind stir
the fickle sun's yellow paint brush
and like an burgeoning embryo,
a reclusive hope bursts forth
metamorphosis within
an all encasing hidden evolution
the wind whispers an audible sigh;
a sole daffodil peeks out
from enveloping darkness,
casting out the memory
a beautiful light hidden within
words in the wind*
... February 28th, 2017 and counting
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
A four way crossroad
A decision to make
Each one leads onward
Which one should I take?
The one that goes deskwards
A pencil in my hands
Words shall flow like water
from the tip onto the pad
The one that goes skywards
My dream I shall grasp
Villagers call my
Stethoscope to their hearts
The one that goes northwards
Riches I await
Meet people from around the globe
Maybe that's my fate
Or the one that will go everywhere
No destination I shall have
Stories from here and there
A camera for a pal
A four way crossroad
A decision to make
Each one leads onward
Which one should I take?
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:49 AM UTC
hard edges
relentlessly slicing my soul
rending to tatters if allowed
forever protecting
constantly repairing
I gaze seawards, skywards
to vistas beyond vision
worlds with no hard edges
expanses where souls dance
to the lullaby of love
borderless
beyond time and space
leave me there
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 3:42 PM UTC
Little changes are adding up like the
Drip drop of water that pools in the bathroom sink
from a rusty metal tap not quite stoppered.
And I am glad it is opened.
I am glad to look up from the little pool of changes turned large
To flick my eyesight skywards and head on into the mirror that steams up with condensation as I breathe
and I'm me
I breathe, and I know I am alive.
I look in this mirror and just like all the water droplets I see all the changes
And they're in me.
The tap is gushing freely since the day I took control
I took residence in the drivers seat and found the courage to twist the metal between my fingers and let it be how it is to be
And I am healthy
I see lights in my eyes again
I see a shine in my hair
I see new length to it too
I see clothes chosen with flair
I see colour flood my skin and a smile that shows teeth
I see red painted lips and weight off my hips
I see confidence in my stance, upright and straight
I see peace and tranquility less smothered by hate
But most of all, and finally
I see what I have always wanted
I see, and I know that if I am not free
I am soon to be
(I see recovery.)
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Under the open sky's benevolent eyes,
when everyone in the caravan
was in deep slumber,
his lonely heart was on fire,
when he felt, someone touching his forehead.
The past he could tell, was catching up with him,
a venerable monk, a divine presence
with his white, long flowing beard
stood leaning on his long, strong, staff
peering at his face, those eyes, the light of grace,
"Make peace with your past,
make the bats hanging upside down, vanish,
with deep repentance, cleanse your turgid soul,
its in your hands, then see what happens"
rang the Guru's words in his ears.
He rocked all his dark loves to sleep and bid
good bye for ever to his weeping wounds,
Eyes raised skywards, he sought forgiveness
to everyone he did wrong, in silence.
He heard the guru's words repeatedly booming in the wind
"Repent, it would absolve you for ever"
He meditated, till his cloak from black to white transformed.
At the day break, he woke up to a new life,
the ground, was deserted, silence reigned, expectently
No trace of any caravan, did they vanish in to thin air?
The rhythmic pounding of the staff, of the monk,
was it just an illusion of mind, a visitor
at moments of darkness and doubt, bringing light?
To some questions, we don't really expect answers,
the very questions are the answers we look for.
The valley was full of flowers, and sky
was crowded with robust white clouds, portentous!
**As he was walking down the rocky path,
a woman looked at his face and asked:
"Monk, where did you come from?
aren't you the one they told, would come, no doubt!"
He smiled.Understood.**
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 2:41 PM UTC
God made me human
she was feeling capricious that day
actually I was meant to be a frog
green and certain, self contained
content to simply squat and watch
flick a sticky tongue at a passing bug
observer of two worlds
at home in both
a leap-in-waiting
able when need or impulse
dictates to skedaddle
with the nonchalance of a Buddha
a gleam of green and gold
glistening on a lily leaf
or kerplunking into deep cool water
Frog had I such toes such elegant legs
I too could scrutinise the mysteries
of pools, the undersides of lilypads
do you wonder Frog
whether there are other ponds
do you dream a dream of elsewhere
do you pause to peer skywards
harbour a secret wish for wings
ah, what may lie beyond your pool
but perhaps I ascribe
too much mystery to you Frog
you simply are
whilst I, I am stuck in wondering,
trying to connect two worlds two realities
**** **** the divine indifference
Tricia Lambert
2010
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
I long to gaze upon your rugged beauty
Magnificent as you rise up
From soft flowing valleys
To collide with the clouds
Slate coloured eyes
Surveying everything beneath you
Dangerously calling me to conquer
I long to swim in your energy
Caught up in the waves of your emotion
Intoxicated by your ebb and flow
My sanity lost in your cadence
Throbbing in your tide
Adrift in the moment as you propel me
Back against the rocks
I long to lose myself in your radiance
As you hang suspended in a sea of stars
Calling lovers to worship
Powerless to resist your temptation
Assaulting my senses with romantic whimsy
Knowing that this soul awakening
Will soon cease to exist
I long to climb in your nakedness
Your skin rough against mine as I ascend skywards
Balancing on sunbeams
A vision caught in stillness
Stripped of colour
Waiting to be reborn
As Spring slowly warms our limbs
I long to watch you break free again
Flower heads bursting through cold cracked earth
Invading my wasteland with exquisite provocation
Observing from a distance
A future that could be
Captured in a heartbeat
I long to feel alive, rekindled, empowered
I long to smoulder in the flame of your eyes
Drown in a waterfall of passion
Soar like an eagle released from agony
Rising in ecstasy
Knowing my fall will be softy broken
Lovelonging
I Long For Love
(C) Pixievic 2016
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
So, it came to pass in those days
the last of the wild things crept
into their dens, caves, nests and burrows,
and passed from the knowledge of man.
The fish stopped swimming
and the birds...stopped flying,
the flowers stopped blooming
and man noticed not.
In those days,
the sea died
and the land became sterile
except for the places kept alive by force.
And all that remained living,
was suffered to exist
in order to feed,
clothe
or amuse mankind.
Their abodes spread like a blight
across the surface of the earth
and the light from their habitations
blotted out the stars
but no one looked skywards.
And in those days,
God bowed his head and disowned his creation
but man ignored his orphanage.
There was nothing left divine,
just profits and loss
and everything had a price
but nothing value.
Then one night a freak accident happened
the lights went out
and the stars appeared.
Great men ran in the streets
weeping in fear at the unknown sky.
They were certain that the end had come.
Slack jawed they stood there staring,
until they realized
that their all powerful machines had fallen silent
and the world was quiet.
No breeze caressed their cheek.
No wind rustled through the trees
for there were no trees,
and no birds sang,
not even a funeral dirge.
There were no ripples on the pond
or waves upon the sea,
just the silence of the dead.
And in that time, man understood
what he had done
and understood he was alone.
He hung his head to cry
and none were there to sympathize.
His heart ached at the knowledge of his fate.
So it came to pass in those days
that the ***** of man failed and lust died.
And mankind, shamed before his own eyes
bowed his head and walked into the void
unmourned.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 10:38 AM UTC
It cannot be
that we are
child of the sea
and not the star
Look skywards
in silent wonder
with silent words
and not here under
Who sings to the dawn
when night is gone
not tyger or fawn
and not fish or prawn
Come back home
the stars do cry
from heavenly dome
and not airless sky
Lift your eyes, if you can
and see the stars that glow
that's our mother land
and not here below
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 5:29 AM UTC